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The Jade Garden is an Asian cuisine restaurant that's a bit worn around the edges, and clearly the money is put into the food. The afternoon buffet is also very good for those that are trying to pack a lot of calories on a very tight budget.

Amongst humanity there are those who still turn their eyes toward the heavens and seek not the stars but deliverance from responsibility and free will. There are those who seek for there to be answers amongst the divine even in a world where some of the divine walk the earth and are themselves victims to their own too human foibles. Just such a group of people are the Children of the Emerald. They are the sons and daughters of the the Isle and they are those who have embraced the tales of the past seeking a return of strength and dominance that can only be gained by the realization of their pantheon's return to might. The Greek pantheon walks the earth, as does the Norse. Yet others have fallen further into the shadows. So much so that some worshipers feel their own gods could perhaps… use a hand.
One such an individual is Doyle. He is one of the Children who keeps his eyes out and at times, assisted by his partners, he searches the world for signs and symbols. And one day he comes across something far greater than a symbol.
From afar she is flame haired and a personification of perfection in the female form. She is powerful, strong, and her visage is one that reminds him so severely of her. Scathach. The teacher of their greatest hero. It must be her. And so they set off to find her, convince her she is destined to play an integral role in the rise of the pantheon. They set off.
Yet they were not alone. Another individual had dealt with Doyle in the past, a young man who has had experience with those who seek the godly. He trailed after them beyond their notice.

***

It is hard for Cameron to escape the attention that she gets from being a publicly known heroine within Metropolis. In general, she has a positive reputation with the people of the city because she *doesn't* try to bank on her reputation, she doesn't seek the fame, the glory, or anything that goes with the things she does to help out everyone else.

Some parts of the city are easier to blend into, even with her bright orange hair and significantly well-built frame. Though she tends to move with a bit of a slouch and tries to avoid extended conversations with folks, there's always the fear that she's going to stir up a near-riot from autograph seekers or the like. It was so much easier before the bank robbery, but… now she can do even more to help people. And Mom's always on her about 'being more public'.

Today's side-trip is a budget-busting extravaganza of a feast at a thankfully low-priced Asian restaurant named 'The Jade Garden'. She is devouring plate after plate she's acquired from the mid-afternoon buffet. Her stomach continues to growl in a most unladylike fashion, for she did not get to eat last night as her food was ruined by an incident in another part of town.

***
To the credit of Doyle and his comrades, he does not interfere with her when she's eating. The divine must be given their space and comfort before approached and they must be treated as well as possible to put them in the right mindset. It's only once she has perhaps finished her meal and thought to made her departure when she seeks to pay, that is when she might realize something is up. A waiter will inform her that her meal has been paid for, courtesy of that gentleman over there.
And across the way there is Doyle. An older man with dark hair and an easy smile. He looks to be in his forties in an immaculate suit with his hands at his sides. He offers her a small salute and a nod given with that open manner of his. She most likely has had people buy her meals for her since she's proven such a positive role-model. His cronies aren't anywhere to be seen at the moment, so for all intents and purposes it seems rather low-key.

***

Concerned that she was going to bankrupt the owner of the establishment, Cameron had offered to pay for three people's worth of meals. The owner at the time had shaken his head, claiming that her eating here was the biggest honor that she could give, and even offered to pay for her lunch.

There may have been a bit of haggling over it, and eventually Cameron got back around to at least paying her own way. Well… at least until the owner saw how *much* she was eating, with no end in sight and no sign of where it was all going to. There are some frantic shouts in the kitchen as they gear up for an effective second lunch rush.

She… eats a lot. It requires the patience of Job but for the devout it probably does not take as long as it could, in theory.

She frowns a bit when she's told that the bill is paid, and glances over at the owner, who gives her a winning smile, like he's won some sort of victory.

The bright-haired paramedic doesn't quite stomp over to the gentleman.

"Dirty pool. I'm not doing any contracts, any endorsements, or any anecdotals, okay?"

***

Answering her openly, Doyle says simply, "I would not dream of asking you to do so, gifted one." He holds up his hand as if to stay her concern then turns and opens the door for her. "I only ask a moment of your time. I promise not to ask for anything of you than your listening and at the end shall ask nothing of you save for you to think on yourself."
With that having been said, Doyle moves outside and holds the door for her, expecting her to come with. And should she do so… well he'll begin talking right away. After all, he has a small window and so much rides on this instant.
"You are a credit to those of us who look up to ones such as you. You seem selfless and noble. A true and strong representation of what it means to be more than human. Tell me, how did this all come about? It seems almost to have an element of fate to it."

***

Cameron was about to leave, so departing is a great idea. However, she's a woman of the modern age, and she reaches for the door, holding it for him.

"I got the door, okay?" Stupid conversations. Probably a plant from Mom or a politician trying to get her to agree to do a TV spot or something.

"There's no 'seem'. Folks need help, they get help. I get cut and bleed just like everyone else. And don't toss around Fate, okay? There ain' no such thing."

Cameron will step outside, both a bit relaxed and a bit peeved at this guy. She hates when people try to get her to do stuff for them with her powers. She really hates it when they want her to sign autographs or the like. But Mom would be all over her case if she didn't listen. After all, 'good leaders listen to their people, even the ones they don't like'.

Like she was going to be a leader of anything any time soon.

She shuts up and slouches a bit, which makes her look a bit more intimidating rather than the attention-diffusing attempt she was going for…

***

Doyle has had experience in dealing with unhappy gods. It comes with the territory. But he is not just here to make a friend or try to influence her, he must discern the truth. And so he embarks with his questions, mindful to perhaps not step upon her proverbial toes as he asks, "There are those that feel Fate is very strong, plays a hand in their lives. But someone with such power at her command most likely feels in control of her destiny. Which is true, I did not mean to imply you lacked that power."
There is something about his smile when it's given, something genuine… but something of the devout to it. It's a smile seen upon the face of those enthralled.
"I mainly came to you today to discuss a possibility." His smile comes again, as if trying to reassure her through the strength of it. "For you know it is a time when gods walk our earth. They are known throughout the world, some heroes, some not. To many you yourself seem as one of them. I was wondering… if you truly may well be."
He stops the procession for a moment to stand in front of her, something most people wouldn't hazard to do. He lifts his eyes up to hers and says, "I would like your permission to investigate your life. To see where there are corollaries. For you see, myself, and those in my organization feel you may be…"
He takes in a deep breath, smiling to her like a television announcer about to tell another person that they've won the lottery, "You may be, a goddess. The reborn soul of Lady Scathach who trained the savior of the Emerald Isle, Cuchulain."
He holds up a hand to try and hold off her protest. "I know this might come to you as a surprise, but I assure you with due research we will see the connections."

***

"Look. Life happens. Sometimes, I can't save the day. It beats me up inside. Sometimes, folks just want to die.. and I can't help them, okay? I don't look at it as being divine or anything, I look at it as 'try to make things better'."

The woman shifts a bit, knocking a bit of red hair out of her eyes only to have it fall back a moment later.

"My parents are heroes from twenty years back. I don't think that you need to do much investigating, the media has pretty much dug into stuff already, you probably already know about my father Alain and my mother Maria. And you can politely request that your organization lay off the sales pitch, okay? I have enough headaches as it is without a group of folks who need to learn better following me around worse than the paparazzi when I can't shake them. Because that gets dangerous when I'm on the job… you know… saving lives here when I'm on duty?"

***

"But, Ms. Tenoaks." The man seems adamant, his eyes almost pleading with the intensity that mixes with subtle madness that only true fanatics can attain, "Think of all of the people you can save through merely the impact of your existence not only as a heroine, but as a _symbol_."
It's at that moment when his two cohorts emerge from around them, not exactly having been hiding out, but were waiting seemingly as part of the normal passersby. Doyle gestures to them, "I'd like to present to you, Curtis, and Rochelle. They are our researches."
It's Rochelle's turn to pick up the ball and run with it as she says, "I understand your parents have their own lineage, Ms. Tenoaks, and their story is strong. But that does not preclude you from being touched with the proper divinity." The 'proper' divinity seems like an interesting concept.
Curtis then steps forward, "Indeed, if you'd just be willing to listen, it's very likely you are the reincarnated form of our goddess. All we're asking for is a chance."

***

"Listen to yourselves. People aren't symbols. You start down that road and you end up with the folks from Germany eighty years ago. Rather than separating people, we should be bringing them together. Not under any sort of banner, but because they want to help out."

She cracks her neck.

"I have enough headaches trying to keep enough food in the belly and the rent paid, and you want me to be your goddess? You must have me confused with someone who, actually, you know, might get off on that kind of thing? No. Please. Just stop."

Despite the fact that she could probably flick all three of them across the street she backs up a bit defensively, even as her eyes start to glance around above the trio.

Dangit, wish there was a cop around right now. These people are creeping me the heck out.

"Even if I *did* give you a chance, you'd probably find some way to twist a lot of facts into it. It's what everyone else has been doing the last six months, though, credit to you for the goddess angle. That's a new one."

***

Rochelle holds up her hand and starts to reach into her small valise that she carries at her side. "One moment, just one moment."
But it's then that Doyle gestures to her, "No, not now Rochelle. We do not wish to upset her." The leader of the trio looks up at her, "Please forgive our over-zealousness, Ms. Tenoaks. We will say nothing further on the matter. I just hope you will keep an open mind, for the future. Many people are depending on you."
And as quickly as that, the interview is over. With a nod from Doyle the other two start to pack it up and pull together, then they start to walk down the street away from her with a steady and even pace. They end up leaving her there to her own devices for the moment, and for her to reflect as well.

***

When Rochelle reaches into her valise Cameron goes to a fully defensive stance. For all she knows that's a gun that she's about to pull out and while it might not hurt *her* it might hurt people in the restaurant or in the neighborhood. It may be a bit intimidating, because that is part of the technique.

"If you have a firearm in your bag, keep it there. No need for anyone to get hurt here. And, I'm not a goddess. Even if Playboy, Penthouse, and Maxim all want to get me into their magazines."

As the group heads off, the bright-haired woman holds her index finger and thumb at the top of her nose, rubbing it a bit. Amazingly, she doesn't get migraines anymore. But if she did, that last little bit right there probably would have triggered ten.

***

It's in that moment when a too calm voice lifts, offering a few words in her direction from a place nearby to one of those benches at a covered bus stop. "They're known as Godwatchers," The words come from a young man there, settled on the edge of the seat with his fingers interlaced before him and his forearms upon his knees while he leans forwards.
There's a small tilt of his head as he looks upon Cameron, gaze meeting hers and a wry smile touching his lips. "They do that with a bunch of people. Though usually not quite so earnestly. You should feel flattered." He lifts his head somewhat, eyebrow cocking. "I mean, if you're into the whole worship thing."
And there he is over there, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a loose grey hooded sweatshirt atop. He's terribly handsome to be fair, though some might say beautiful along the lines of beauty from the classical period as opposed to the current day's idea of what beauty must be so filled with silicon and the scalpel. Angelic features, a wry smile… but what really stands out apart is when she'll see those glowing red eyes.
He lifts a hand somewhat holding it up to waggle it a bit as he adds, "Though I can see what they mean. There is definitely something larger than life to you."

***

Cameron stares at the guy intently for a few moments, assessing his threat, watching others nearby.

"I don't. Find it disturbing. You responsible for them? If so, call off the dogs. If not, why are you here? Were you expecting me to send them into the next county? I have standards. And if you're here from the magazines or the high-end stores, just forget it."

Cameron's six and a half feet of athletic statuesque build is almost the exemplar of human development, and then some.

"I'm a paramedic here with Metropolis Fire and Rescue. It adds a foot to my height."

Well, she definitely has the larger than life snark, even if she seems a bit reserved on the social arena front.

***

For some reason he seems terribly at ease, and her height doesn't seem to bother him. He keeps his posture and his place as he looks across the way at her, then lets his eyes drift off after the departed Godwatchers. Those eyes shift back to her and he gestures absently, "Who me? No. I've had experience with them before." For a time he looks on her and turns his head the other way, as if trying to get a different angle. He's not looking at her as a man looks on a woman, more as a fighter considers one of their own. He gauges her reach, her relative strength, her body language. His lip curls.
"I overheard them speaking about a strong possibility, and some of the things they'd tried to pull on me and mine in the past, I figured it'd be interesting to see what they were up to. And who they might be hassling." He stands up then to his full height, which is still eight inches shorter than her, to be fair. Rolling one shoulder slowly until it gives a faint cartilaginous crackle, he meets her gaze with that same smouldering one of his. "My name is Alex. Alexander if you're feeling fancy. Alexander Aaron. They sort of made a similar schpiel to me."

***

Strange pretty-boy guys that show up out of the blue are not what would put someone at ease. However, Cameron listens briefly, and recognizes the counter-assessment process, unconsciously straightening up and loosening up at the same time. That's the kind of look that Mom gives her before she's about to get her butt beaten in for training.

"Okay, Alex. So what did you tell them? Not interested? Or did you buy their line of bull? And are you here to start something? Because if you do, that's really not cool and I'd have to do something about it."

"Cameron Alain Tenoaks, or if you want to use the hero tag, Columbia."

***

Holding up his hands, Alexander looks across the way at her and tells her levelly, "First off. I have no intention of harming you, nor anyone else at this time." There is a certain formality to his words, as if meeting the requirements of some aspect that holds him.
He rests his hands upon his hips and looks steadily at her, "Basically that's sort of a long story and involves me telling you this whole rigamarole of my life which, really, if you don't care could be terribly terribly dull. But I'm willing if you want."
Alexander steps towards her to stand before her, then looks up and down the way. "And might as well do it while we're walking if you don't mind. But then again you might just want to exist in a state of not knowing nor caring which I entirely would understand as well. But short answer, no I kinda think they're con men. Ultimately."

***

"Don't need to know, honest. Probably same thing with mine."

She pauses and considers. "Walking, huh?" The concept seems a bit silly to her if she's not on duty. "Con men? Sounds like all the agents trying to hit me up, and everything else tied into the whole 'you're famous' thing."

Her stance remains wary. "Where you heading? I can get you there in twenty minutes if its local."

***

Shifting his weight to the other foot, Alexander gives her a small nod. "Good," He answers about her not wanting him to go into his whole thing. So he just reaches back into his pocket and produces a phone that he activates with a sweep of his thumb. "If you see them again or have questions or whatever, here's my info."
Should she take it or not he'll then deactivate the phone and step back, "And nah, I'm fine with walking. I if my pop saw me cavorting around in the arms of someone like yourself being carried about it'd be hell to pay." Perhaps literally.
That having been said he turns and slides his hands back into his pockets. "Til another time, Ms. Tenoaks."

***

There's a curt nod from the taller woman. No need to make this any more awkward or weird than it already is. She pulls out her phone and takes down the information, no fancy emoticons, no fake smiles.

"Your father sounds downright troglodytic. And, truth in advertising, I'd prefer not to be hauling around people around I've just met if it ain't an emergency."

She sighs and lets her shoulders slump down a bit once more.

"If it happens, it happens, Mister Aaron." She doesn't sound overly enthusiastic about the prospect, though, given her tone, it seems to be a common thing for her.

She heads on to a part of Metropolis that might need her assistance, launching for the skies.